ce a little with his beard; and I saw, as
in a mist, the red head of Crossi, the golden curls of Derossi, the
Calabrian clad in black, all pass by, and Garrone, who brought me a
mandarin orange with its leaves, and ran away in haste because his
mother is ill.

Then I awoke as from a very long dream, and understood that I was better
from seeing my father and mother smiling, and hearing Silvia singing
softly. Oh, what a sad dream it was! Then I began to improve every day.
The little mason came and made me laugh once more for the first time,
with his hare's face; and how well he does it, now that his face is
somewhat elongated through illness, poor fellow! And Coretti came; and
Garoffi came to present me with two tickets in his new lottery of "a
penknife with five surprises," which he purchased of a second-hand
dealer in the Via Bertola. Then, yesterday, while I was asleep, Precossi
came and laid his cheek on my hand without waking me; and as he came
from his father's workshop, with his face covered with coal dust, he
left a black print on my sleeve, the sight of which caused me great
pleasure when I awoke.

How green the trees have become in these few days! And how I envy the
boys whom I see running to school with their books when my father
carries me to the window! But I shall go back there soon myself. I am so
impatient to see all the boys once more, and my seat, the garden, the
streets; to know all that has taken place during the interval; to apply
myself to my books again, and to my copy-books, which I seem not to have
seen for a year! How pale and thin my poor mother has grown! Poor
father! how weary he looks! And my kind companions who came to see me
and walked on tiptoe and kissed my brow! It makes me sad, even now, to
think that one day we must part. Perhaps I shall continue my studies
with Derossi and with some others; but how about all the rest? When the
fourth grade is once finished, then good by! we shall never see each
other again: I shall never see them again at my bedside when I am
ill,--Garrone, Precossi, Coretti, who are such fine boys and kind and
dear comrades,--never more!

FRIENDS AMONG THE WORKINGMEN.

Thursday, 20th.

Why "never more," Enrico? That will depend on yourself. When you
have finished the fourth grade, you will go to the Gymnasium, and
they will become workingmen; but you will remain in the same city
for many years, perhaps. Why, then, will you never meet a